Wake
by The Elemental Shark
Summary: Spoilers for Under the Knife 2. “Mom...we have a lot to talk about later.”


Disclaimer: Trauma Center, its characters, and everything else it encompasses do not belong to me.

* * *

**Wake**

The first thing she saw upon opening her eyes was her daughter's face.

Wait. No, that couldn't be. Her daughter wasn't that old.

She tried to speak. She couldn't. Her daughter saw her.

"M-Mom?"

It _was_ her. Years older somehow, and…why was she in a hospital bed? She tried to sit up, but her whole body felt heavy.

"Excuse me? How is—" A nurse walked into the room, took one glance at her, and gasped. "Doctor!" she shouted behind her. "She's awake!"

"What?" A doctor hurried into the room a second later and examined her for a moment before breaking out into a wide smile. "This is…this is great!" He looked at her daughter. "When did this happen?"

"Just a few minutes ago." Her daughter beamed. "Thank you so much, Doctor. I can't ever thank you enough."

She was confused. What was going on? Her mind was still thick, getting thicker. "Wh-where…" She tried to make her mouth work. "Pa…"

Her daughter's expression changed: serious and sad, no longer happy. "Mom…we have a lot to talk about later."

Tracy Mercer barely managed to nod before nodding off herself.

* * *

The spring morning was warm and bright and hopeful, a little incongruous with the hundreds of graves scattered around her. She didn't dwell on it. She was grateful to be able to come here in the first place.

"I'm awake now, Patrick."

The cab she'd taken here had already left. Tracy felt herself becoming aware of how isolated she was, alone in a graveyard in the middle of a morning where most people would out be enjoying the weather.

She pushed on.

"You know, the funny thing is that I don't even remember the accident Heather told me about. But it must have been serious, wasn't it? Patrick…you never gave up the hope that you could bring me back, did you.

"It _was_ wrong. I hope you realize that now. Neo-GUILT…before that accident, I was helping to prevent GUILT the first time, and then you try and use it again to revive me?" She smiled sadly. "It would never have worked. You shouldn't have done it. Am I really worth all those who would have suffered because of the GUILT you created? I loved you too, but I couldn't bear to live if it meant others had to die for my sake.

"They found a way, Patrick. It's a miracle I'm here, but they brought in somebody who specializes in miracles. You're familiar with Doctor Stiles, aren't you? Five years ago I'd only heard of him, though I understand you crossed paths a few times. Not in the best of situations, of course. I admired his brilliance when I used his procedures seven years ago, and now that I've actually gotten to speak with him I admire him even more. It's such a shame…

"It's been almost four years since you died. I've been awake for a while. I'm sorry it took me so long to come here; I needed therapy for a long time to get used to life again. You understand how it is, don't you? It'll be the anniversary of your death soon…Heather's not with me today, but she's promised me she'll be here when I come back in a week. To pay respects.

"I can't ask 'Why,' because I already know why you did what you did. But I have to say—not only do you try and use diseases made to kill in order to bring me back, but then you end up going and getting yourself _shot._" Tracy paused, shaking her head as she wiped a tear from her cheek. "I knew you could be brash, but I couldn't believe it when Heather told me. _Dead._"

She took a moment to compose herself before continuing, eyes never leaving the headstone. "Heather's doing fine, in case you were wondering. She's still working as a nurse in Caduceus. If I ever get well enough to work again, I hope I'll be able to join her there someday. She's very happy. I moved in with her a month ago. Heather's grown up to become a very fine young woman, but she hasn't forgotten you or anything that happened four years ago at all. She still keeps a photo of that boy she took care of at Elysium—Emilio, I think—in her room. She told me that he thought of her as a sister, and she looked after him like he was the little brother she never had. They must have been close…

"Did you ever meet him, Emilio? Did you ever hear about him from Heather? She and you never got along well, but it was your Neo-GUILT that they found in his liver, I hear. He survived that time…Heather told me he wasn't so lucky again later. GUILT again. That poor boy."

"I can't forgive you for what you did. Even if I understand why you did it, I won't ever be able to forgive you for it. But, Patrick…

"I'm sorry."

Tracy bent down to place a single flower at her husband's grave and slowly made her way out to find another cab.


End file.
